


Another Crack In My Heart

by tattooeddevil



Category: 30 Seconds to Mars
Genre: Alcohol, Break Up, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-30
Updated: 2012-08-30
Packaged: 2017-11-13 04:35:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/499539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tattooeddevil/pseuds/tattooeddevil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The crack in Tim's ceiling matches the crack in his heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Another Crack In My Heart

_”No, I think it’s a good thing. You get to work on MDM, I get to work on the new Mars album. It’ll be awesome.”_

_“Yeah, Jared, sure.”_

There’s a crack where the ceiling meets the wall. It’s thin but long and just there. He stares at unblinking it until it starts to blur. He blinks and stares again. Blur. Blink. Stare.

They’re not tears. No, really, they’re not. Because he has no reason to have tears in his eyes. None whatsoever. It’s not like he was in a meaningful relationship for two years and it’s not like his boyfriend just broke up with him at all. See? No reason to cry.

_”I think it’s best if we just... See what happens?”_

_“See what happens? Really, Jared, just see what happens?”_

If only his eyes had gotten that message. Blur. Blink. Stare.

He adds smoke to the list of things to do. Blur. Blink. Stare. Smoke. Blur. Blink. Stare. Smoke. Definitely no room for crying in there.

A glance at the clock tells him it’s 3am. He stares at that until it blurs. Much more interesting than the crack in his ceiling. Still not crying though. He’s not crying, damn it. Blur. Blink. Stare. Smoke. Wipe cheeks.

Well, shit.

_” Take care of yourself, okay?”_

_“Sure.”_

_“You gonna be okay?”_

_“No.”_

He adds another thing to his list of things to do. Drink. Blur. Blink. Stare. Smoke. Drink. At least now he can say his vision blurs from something other than tears. Which he is not crying, honest. It’s 5am when he adds puke to his list too.

The stern voice inside of his mind sounds suspiciously like Shannon.

“Get in bed and go to sleep, Kelleher”

He winces at how loud Shannon is being inside of his head. Blur. Blink. Stare. Smoke. Drink. Puke. Wince. Blink. Drink. Blur. Smoke. Drink. Blink. Stare. Things are getting out of order. Where is Shannon and his loud, scolding voice when you need him?

The crack is still on his ceiling when he returns to stare at it. His vodka likes the crack. He might be crying again. The clock says it’s 6.30am and then it blurs again. Could it be his clock speaks?

“Hand me the bottle and fucking pass out already.”

No, not his clock. Shannon.

_”You have one new message. Today, 3.32pm.”_

_“Hey Tim, it’s Shannon. Leto. Look, I’m in town - Phoenix I mean - and I thought I’d stop by. Maybe grab a beer or something? Call me back.”_

_“Message deleted.”_

He doesn’t really want Shannon. He wants Jared. Apparently it doesn’t matter what he wants. All that matters is Jared. And Shannon in his head. The crack in his ceiling laughs at him. The bed laughs back. The sheets decide to try and strangle him. Maybe he’s had too much vodka.

“No shit.”

The alarm clock - no, Shannon - sounds amused. Why would his alarm clock be amused by his misery?

His ceiling sighs, or it might have been Shannon.

“Will you just go the fuck to sleep already?”

Shannon sounds pissed off.

“Of course I am pissed off, Jared made me watch you in case you did anything stupid and you pull your drunken insomnia crap? I deserve a freaking medal for this.”

It’s a very mouthy alarm clock, that Shannon.

_”Message deleted. Message deleted.”_

_“Tim, call me the fuck - “_

_“Message deleted.”_

The bottle is back and he takes a happy drink. Drown himself in vodka and forget everything about Jared.

“You don’t want that.”

No, he doesn’t. He just wants this ache in his chest to go away. He’s not crying, he isn’t.

“It would be okay if you did.”

Shannon doesn’t sound pissed anymore.

The dark presses on him, making him slow. Long arms emerge from the shadows and reach for him. They whisper to him, they wipe the tears from his eyes. The bottle is empty and so is his heart.

“Fuck, you’ve reached maudlin drunk already, haven’t you?”

The shadow arms drag him from the floor back to the bed and hey look, the crack is still there. Just like the crack in his heart.

The arms wrap around him and make him fall asleep.

“Fucking finally.”

_”You have one new message. Today, 4.15pm.”_

_“Hey Tim, it’s Shannon again. I’m getting worried man, can you at least let me know you’re not lying in a gutter somewhere, dying from alcohol poisoning or something? I promised Jared I’d look after you and damn it, I’m your friend too, I care. Just... Text me or something, okay?”_

_“I’m fine. Tell Jared I’m ‘seeing it happen’.”_

Morning comes with more puking, blurring and blinking. More tears too. More Shannon.

“You are a seriously fucked up drunk, dude. Your alarm clock, seriously?”

He’s not crying, he isn’t. The crack in his ceiling mocks him. He sighs and closes his eyes again.

“Go away Shannon.”

Instead, the bed dips and Shannon stretches out beside him. He turns his head to Shannon and cracks an eye open to glare at him. Shannon just looks at him back. Just looks. He cracks like his ceiling did.

“Why are you here?”

_”You have one message. Today, 6 - “_

_“Message deleted.”_

Shannon doesn’t answer him. Instead, he takes his phone from the nightstand, presses a few keys and then puts the phone to his ear. He knows who Shannon is calling, but he can’t stop him. He wants to, but then again, he doesn’t.

“Hey, it’s me. Yeah, I’m with him now. No, he’s not. I don’t think that’s a good idea. Okay. Bye.”

He eyes Shannon warily. If Shannon says Jared is coming over, he is going to do something drastic. Like cry, like he didn’t do last night. Or break open that second bottle of vodka. Shannon doesn’t say anything though. He gets up and makes coffee with aspirins, but he says nothing. He showers, forces Tim to shower too and then leaves.

“I won’t be long. Just getting some food, okay?”

Even if it’s not okay, it’s not like he has the energy to object. Not crying, not being heartbroken is tiring. He ignores the black hole in his chest, the claws still ripping his insides apart, the tears seeping down his cheeks. His is not crying. Again.

It’s not Shannon that comes back. It’s Jared. He brings more tears with him, some his own. He brings apologies, kisses and hugs with him. He brings pain, anger, sex. And Tim welcomes it. Revels in it. Absorbs it like a hungry dog. Jared buried deep inside of him, arms around him, lips on his neck.

“You can’t do this to me. I won’t let you.”

More tears, this time they’re just Jared’s. The crack in the ceiling is still there after Jared leaves, but it’s a little less pronounced now. A little less cracked. A little less deep. Maybe it’ll fully heal one day too.


End file.
